


The Virtues of Selling Your Soul to an Uncaring Military Bureaucracy

by Melona_Ice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, How Do I Tag, I have a beta!, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, OC is an asshole, Office, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Tagging as I go, Taxes, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Worldbuilding, and yet here we are, author has never worked an office job, author knows nothing about taxes, author's attempts at the following, critique welcome, i hate kishimoto, i'm gonna hate this in a few years LOL, inconsistent updates, sasuke is the next gai, shoddy attempts at, whoops, workplace shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melona_Ice/pseuds/Melona_Ice
Summary: California woman dies and is reborn into a manga. "Like... anime characters aren't that hot in person."More at 11.(Reincarnation was always a possibility, but I had always imagined that I would be reborn as a slug, not a human. And much less as a human in an anime. SI/OC.)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), there's background romance but the mc has no romance, yk? - Relationship
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> edited 2020/27/11 for grammar. ty for being my beta [ Syn.](/users/SincerelyYourNightmare/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 2020/27/11 for grammar. ty to [ SincerelyYourNightmare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyYourNightmare/pseuds/SincerelyYourNightmare) for beta-ing my stupid ass.

“You're Ban Shion. You graduated early.” A solemn voice said in front of me. I ignored it.

“Hmm... now where could you have heard such a silly rumor?” I mused, not looking up from my novel. It was just getting to the good part, where the jaded kunoichi was about to open her heart to the tenderhearted tailor. Onaka was a literary genius. 

I wondered for a second if he would appreciate fanmail, and shelved the thought away for later, knowing it would be banished to the bowels of my mind until 2am when it would inevitably turn up again.

“You’re wearing a chunin vest.” 

“Am I?” Eagerly, I turned the page. Kaji-kun’s passionate declaration caught me off guard. I always took him as a more subdued character, but the author made it work. I turned another page, when a shadow descended upon me like a dark shroud of shadowy darkness. 

I sighed and scooted over 2 feet.

The shadow scooted with me. 

I closed my book and looked up, squinting at my very own personal eclipse, the current bane of my existence.

Ah yes. Uchiha Sasuke, the last loyal Uchiha. I had never been fond of him in the anime. After being in the academy with Uchiha-chan, I liked him even less. 

Sasuke made a strangled sound of frustration. 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“I graduated three years ago. Only learning about it now?” I slotted an unimportant grocery store receipt to mark my page before closing my book.

“I thought you'd quit,” the dark haired boy replied impatiently, like he wanted to say something else but felt obligated to answer my question. I squinted harder at that.

“Many unpleasant adjectives describe me, but ‘quitter’ isn’t one of them.” I leaned forward and uncrossed my legs, checking my watch absently. “Anything you want, or are you just here to eat up my lunch-break?” 

I snorted slightly at my own pun. 

“Fight me. I wanna see if your skills are really that of an early graduate.” His glare was impressive, but ruined somewhat by the fact that he had the face of a white peach and some of the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. Pretty.

“Hmmm… I don’t really feel like fighting you-” I cut myself off to look at my watch and gasp. “Oh no! Wow, look at the time. My supervisor is gonna flay me alive if I’m late, so sorry to leave you like this, but you know how things are, right? Ah wait, you’re not an actual ninja, so you _don’t_. My bad.”

I got to see his face turn a very interesting shade of red before escaping the wrath of a preteen boy in a swirl of leaves.

* * *

The Hokage Tower was about 15 stories tall and very wide. The Academy was on the first three floors, while the administrative offices went from Floor 2 up to Floor 14. 

“Welcome back, Ban-kun!” Momokawa-san, my supervisor, greeted me from where he sat.

Momokawa-san was a big man, a former taijutsu specialist, who busted his hip on the field and had to switch to reserves. His desk was decorated with about 50 ceramic cat statues. When a word-processing machine malfunctioned, we waved the calico statue around and it generally started working again.

“Hello, Manager. I’ve finished with the personnel action requests.”

“Great. Can you take those requests and,” Momokawa-san rooted around on his desk until he grabbed the magnum opus of all files and handed it to me, “these documents to Kuromiya-san at the management department?”

“Of course. It won’t be a problem at all, sir.” 

I went over to my desk to pick up the personnel action requests, then toed the door open and scurried down the hallway.

The management department oversaw the budget and employee count of all other departments. It was essentially a team of high ranking secretaries so Sandaime-sama could have more time to relax and attend to other matters. 

This was the 92nd request for more employees filed during my time working in the tax department. 

Out of all the in-village branches, Intelligence got the highest number of employees and the largest cut of the salary cap.

The salary cap was a limit put in place by Nidaime-sama dictating that only a certain amount of money can be given for each department’s budget for wages, like a pizza. Within that pizza, more slices were cut, and those baby slices were given to the employees in each department. It worked that way with the resource budget, too.

Kind of like a sports team.

Which was really screwed up when you realised that Konoha was _not_ a sports team, but an actual government.

Torture and Interrogation (run almost exclusively by the Yamanaka clan) had the second highest budget. It befuddled me what exactly the T&I needed all that money for, but I personally thought there was an embezzlement scheme being run by the Yamanaka.

The elevator doors opened at long last, and I found myself at a critical juncture. 

Step inside, or wait for a less crowded elevator. It was already packed to the brim, and adding me in as well would probably make it even more uncomfortable, but… I really wasn’t in the mood to have Momokawa-san get mad that I was taking too long… 

YOLO.

I stepped forward and into the elevator. I could feel the collective wave of despair saturate the lift as I shouldered aside a grimy kunoichi built like a brick wall and a group of shivering genin covered in blood to make room for myself. I hummed along to the tinny elevator music until I reached the management floor. 

The burn of 10 or so glares on my back as I left made me feel all warm and tingly. It was nice to know people thought about me.

* * *

Kuromiya-san was a handsome young-ish man who was confined to desk duty while recovering from a broken leg. He sighed, shaking his head. “Another one? Just hand it over.”

He dropped the small stack of personnel requests into the paper shredder. Right in front of me.

I stared for a second, dumbfounded, before shrugging and handing over the much heftier file over. It wasn't shredded. 

“Have a good day, Kuromiya-san.” I called out. He nodded back, amused.

* * *

"Ban-kun! So, what did Arakawa-san say?" Manager gave me his best teddy-bear smile.

"He shredded them." I answered, sticking my pinky in my ear, sniffing it, and determinedly not looking at Momokawa-san.

Matsuki stifled a laugh in the background.

Still not looking at Manager-san, I slipped into my chair and started up my "word-processing machine".

Think of those bulky desk-tops from the 90s, and then take away every function except for Microsoft Word.

A trickle of Killing Intent filled the room, and I started sweating. My cowardly self peeked over the screen of my word processor to check on the cause of it. 

The look on Manager-san's face made me sympathize with the workplace experience of an insect.

* * *

Somewhat surprisingly, civilians didn't commit tax fraud. The fear about the ANBU that supposedly lurked around and snatched up anybody who committed tax fraud probably scared them into submission.

It’s true that we had our very own ANBU unit dedicated to tax evaders, but despite their involvement with us, paying them came out of _our_ budget. 

It was a decision made by the Old Man Third to ensure that the Hokage wouldn’t have to pay out of pocket, while still making sure that the ANBU would get paid.

War-time policies. Gotta love ‘em.

Except for when you hate them, because then _you're_ the one that's filing all the paperwork for the ANBU, complete with redacted information to make calculations extra interesting.

I slammed my forehead against my desk, clattering the cubicle walls.

* * *

By the time I stepped out of the Hokage Tower, the sun had begun to set. Long shadows were cast over the dusty streets.   
Why? Why were there “dusty streets”? Was pavement obsolete? Automobiles existed in the elemental nations (however scarce) and yet Konohagakure insisted on dirt roads? My black sandals were stained a sandy yellow caused by the particulate abominations. It was like hiking, but with buildings. How dare these be called sidewalks. 

I stared at my feet with haunted eyes. Woe is me.

I spent a bit more time shuffling through Konoha, bemoaning the lack of cement. 

A peculiar sound, reminiscent to what I'd imagine a crab’s frothy mouth would sound like, was uttered behind me. 

“Hello, Uchiha-chan.”

“Fight me.”

“Goodbye, Uchiha-chan.”

I applied the kawarimi technique to a nearby trash bin, and booked it straight home.

* * *

Ban Kana was a spartan woman. She grew up in Land of Waves, a tiny fishing village, and probably ate nails and steroids for breakfast. She wooed my father by insulting his leg-warmers. 

She was also, frankly speaking, short.

"Shion! Do you know what I told you to do before you came home from work?"

I looked down at her, muddy red eyes staring into my own matching set.

"Get zucchinis for dinner."

"Yes. I did. And what did you _not_ do?"

I looked away to an exquisite obi hanging on the living room wall, mumbling out an unintelligible answer.

"Hey! Don't mumble when you speak, hm?"

My shoulders hiked up and my ears started to burn. "I didn't get the zucchinis."

“Why?” 

I pulled a face. “Some loser from the Academy only just found out that I graduated early.” 

I scratched my neck disinterestedly before swinging my head up from my toes to make eye-contact. 

“He’s been following me around so I can fight him.”

Kaa-san dug her fingers into my ribcage. “Don’t make such a stupid face, it’s gonna stick that way.” She handed me a few folded notes. “Get the zucchinis and grab some of that sweet potato ice cream you like.”

I nodded mutely and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner was, as always, a quiet affair. The sound of utensils clicking against second-hand plates and bowls was sometimes interrupted by the occasional asking about one's day, or talking about a book.

Today's meal was a recipe common in Kirigakure. Both fathers from both lives liked it. Fermented soy-bean paste stew with clams and mushrooms. And zucchinis. Can’t forget the zucchinis.

Food from there was startlingly similar to what I was used to eating in my past life, which I was starting to call "Thundercats: Season 1" in my head. 

When I had first taken a bite of familiar food in an alien place, I almost cried.

I didn’t actually remember everything from birth, unlike what most fanfictions would have you believe. I had fetal amnesia because my cute little baby brain couldn’t handle things like object permanence, functioning eyesight, and transdimensional reincarnation. Y’know, the basics.

Reincarnation as a human had been a possibility in “Afterlife Roulette”, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping to be reborn as a slug. Or a cockroach. Blissful freedom from grades, expectations, and the concept of time.

Although I didn’t hate it (not by a long shot), Thundercats: Season 1 had potentially been one of the most useless preludes for what I was getting into.

Turned out, high school water polo and drawing all the time didn’t translate well into being a ninja, who knew?

Kaa-san flicked my forehead. Most likely due to how severe my thinking face was.

"Ow," I said after a few seconds.

"What?"

"That flick. It’s child abuse."

"Psshhh, it doesn't hurt." She flicked her own forehead, then gestured to me abstractly.

"I'm in pain."

"You reacted 3 seconds after I even touched you. It's like a mosquito bite!"

"I'm allergic to mosquitoes."

She just huffed and we went back to eating. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Then...

"... I just flicked your forehead again."

My heart was thundering in my chest like a taiko drum, threatening to beat out of my sternum. I mimed this using both hands to the chest to communicate to Kaa-san the reaction she elicited. 

"H-how… could yo....u…" I groaned in agony.

Gripping my forehead now, I toppled out of seiza. While hitting the floor I wondered if this was how Season 2 would end. My body hit the tatami mats and my hand lolled out dramatically.

There was a sigh from above.

* * *

After dinner, in order to stay in shape, I hauled ass to the training fields. The mental strength training the Academy subjected you to had its uses in everyday situations, like enduring the vengeful song of 50 odd cicadas and muggy September heat while swinging around a wooden sword like a madwoman.

“Shiochi1  
!” Matsuki yelled as she ran to me from… who knows where. The woods? Her hair looked a little like a spring onion, and it was very long, as always.

She bowled me over in a flying hug, cackling like a mountain-hag as I tried to spit her hair from my mouth.

“....Matsuki-san. It’s good to see you,” I wheezed as my ribcage was crushed by 1.5 meters of rabid office-worker.

Matsuki pouted as she dug her fingers in my face to let herself up. The back of my head was ground unpleasantly into the crabgrass.

“Mou, stop being so stiff. Call me Yoshie-senpai!” She puffed up her chest before kicking me in the foot. “Spar with me!”

I wobbled up from lying on the ground and got into the standard Konoha-style defensive pose.

Matsuki rushed at me, kunai in hand, my body only dodging by a hair’s breadth because I had been doing drills just before Matsuki arrived. She kept swiping at me, faster and faster. I leapt back, barely keeping up with evasive measures. A hastily executed handspring got me some semblance of distance, but since my arms were twigs both with and without chakra, I got about 2 meters away before skidding to a stop.

“Matsuki-san! Is using live steel during a friendly spar really the best idea?” I asked from my precarious position of barely a lunge away from her blade. She body-flickered forward before nailing me in the gut with her knee. 

“Oh, pff, It’s a dull knife. The worst thing that can happen is _maybe_ a bruise. Maybe. Potentially getting impaled as, like, a worst-case scenario,” Matsuki said cheerily as I dry heaved.

A one handed inu-seal gathered chakra water in my mouth that I spat out, wiping my face with the back of a lightly shaking hand. Picking up my practice sword from the shade of a tree, I got into a starting position that my late father (bless his watery soul) drilled into me relentlessly.

Matsuki grinned savagely and lunged. I brought up a quick block before countering. My bokken just about managed to glance off her ribs before she finished her dodge.

“Hmm… good speed, good technique.” Matsuki was still smiling. I blinked in surprise, and when I opened my eyes again, she was behind me. “But your reflexes suck.” 

She kicked the back of my knees and I went down.

Matsuki laughed more. There were two modes to her laugh: hyena on speed, or malevolent grandmother. This was the grandmother. 

“Ho-holy _crap_ , you’re in worse shape than the national debt!” She crowed in between gasps and fits of laughter.

Grimacing, I stumbled onto my feet. 

“There is nothing holy about crap, nor accumulating interest rates.” 

Matsuki doubled over again at that, conveniently leaving her neck exposed. I took it as a cue to rabbit punch her left external carotid artery. Fun.

* * *

Eating a disgustingly lactose-filled bowl of ice cream after being bullied by a half-insane woman over twice my age was probably the closest thing to a religious experience I’d ever have in this life.

* * *

Ahh yes, rain. The glorious time of the month when worms, frogs, and wormy, froggy humans thrived.

Myself included.

I walked to work via the streets without an umbrella, taking joy from the feeling of lukewarm water caressing my aching muscles. Then it struck me: the infuriating thought of seeing Matsuki’s smug face in reaction to my plight. It brought rage to my soul, the combined fury of 10 burning suns saturated my very being. I knew I would suffer come time for me to enter the workspace dedicated to the ninja IRS.

But it’s okay. I could be the bigger person… it’s a-okay. Everything… was fine…

…. It’s been a while since Matsuki last ate tissues, huh.

* * *

“So,” started Momokawa-san. “What’s the story behind _that_?” 

The “that” in question, was Matsuki serenely pecking away at her keyboard with a wad of tissue paper in her mouth. 

I grimaced, which on my childish face looked like a pout, and tried to explain my definition of a mild punishment. The answer got me several dubious looks, from both Momokawa-san and eavesdropping coworkers.

“- but as you can see, it’s very ineffectual.” I finished matter of factly, still pouting.

“... right. That’s uh… that’s rough.” Momokawa looked at me in confusion. I could practically read his eyes. 

_’Help!’_ his brown-colored optical orb-ey irises screamed. _’How do I talk to kids? Kids like candy right? Yeah, candy. I can do that.’_

He awkwardly fumbled for a blue-grey porcelain cat statue on his desk, and took off the head, revealing sugary goodness inside. “Have some konpeito.”

I took pity on him and nodded, accepting a few pieces and then going back to my work. 

_‘Man, konpeito candy is such an odd name. Isn’t that the loan word for confetti? Confetti candy, huh.’ was most likely my train of thought before I stopped dead in my tracks. Confetti candy is originally from Portugal. It was brought by a missionary and given to… big field loud chief 2 or whatever. How could something from Portugal come to the elemental nations? Into the Naruto world?’_

_That was… 1569 (69, nice), which was the Warring States Period. Does the Sengoku Period intersect with what happened during the clan-warring era? But the clan-warring era was… 87 years ago. How does that work? 500-ish years in less than 90?’_

I pushed my small stack of papers to the side as I contemplated what the fuck the Meji Restoration was, and how it matched up to my new reality.

* * *

Matsuki Yoshie, age 24, reached two fingers into her mouth, and fished out a spit-soaked wad of tissues.

“Is Shiochi having a religious experience about… candy?” Yoshie asked Amano Masao-kun.

Masao-kun (whose name Yoshie actually knew, like a proper coworker instead of just letting everyone go nameless unless forced to interact with them because, despite all evidence to the contrary, Yoshie was NOT a mannerless heathen like a certain small white-haired child) sighed.

“Maybe? I mean, it has to be pretty stressful. Ban-kun is the only early grad of this generation.” Masao winced. “-That’s still here. It has to be stressful.”

“Meh. The kid just slacks off doing sword shit and paperwork all the time.” Suzumeno chimed in, adding his own two ryo. “Prob’ly just thinking of a new move or something.”

“No, no, no,” Yoshie said. “I know my kohai, Shiochi is undoubtedly having dinner with Shukongoshin3 or Guan-Yin[4](%E2%80%9D#mercy%E2%80%9D). That’s what I call ‘deep thinking face #4’.”

“How disturbed are you?” Masao-kun asked, twirling in a 360 on his spinny chair. “You get fired for getting piss-drunk and destroying a building, become a fake lawyer, get rehired by the Hokage himself because you convinced an arson victim he liked his house better burnt, and now _this?_ ”

Yoshie smiled at Masao-kun’s disgruntled, tanned face. “Whatever do you mean? I'm not disturbed, I’m just observant! For instance, Suzumeno has 5 different ways of picking lint out from his hair.” Her tofu-like smile gained a wicked edge. “And you have 7 different ways of getting pe-”

“Nope!” Momokawa descended like a vulture from the heavens, clasping a sturdy hand over Yoshie’s mouth. “Back to work.”

* * *

Was this world one created from the brain-loins of Kishimoto’s incompitent ass _(no libel meant, please don’t sue me <3)_, or was it an entire world made separately? I knew I should’ve gone to the International Trade Department, but _nooooo_. 

‘Choose taxation,’ they said. ‘We provide dental,’ they said. 

As if I would live long enough to need a root canal.

* * *

About sometime before “shitty takeout and romance novel” o’clock, the weight of a human gaze took a perch on my poor, unsuspecting neck. My shoulders twitched, but I didn’t let my head swing around to stare back at whoever was looking at me. 

I traced back the feeling to a tree of ungodly proportions right outside the window. 

_'Who's teaching this kid? Hiding in the only tree on the entire block? That’s _below_ amateur.'_

I scratched the side of my nose and decided to turn around to glare at the vaguely human shape outside the window.

Uchiha-chan. Again.

I raised an eyebrow at him. The other one quickly rose to join its twin when he went stock still.

_'Going perfectly still when found out? At that point you have a better chance just booking it.'_

“Scram,” I mouthed out wordlessly, pantomimed breaking my neck, and finally jerked my finger at him forcefully.

Not bothering to check if he left, I shoved my attention back to the topic of paperwork. The calligraphy brush supplied (and mandated) by management was slightly unwieldy, but not horrible. People tend to hype up the terrible-ness of calligraphy brushes. Around the Academy’s 2nd year though, ink and brush became easier than using a ballpoint.

“Where are you in your work?” Amano-san asked as he licked his fingers obnoxiously to in the copy room. Yes, I knew his name, no I didn't use it.

“Not far, Senpai.” I held back the instinctual ‘uwu’ and ‘owo’.

“Hmm. Don’t feel too bad. Remember, ‘it does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.’” Amano-san said sagely.

I blinked in surprise. “Confucius?” 

_‘Huh, who would’ve thought he’s here too.’_

“Yeah. You’re interested in philosophy? I’m surpri-'' he stopped himself. “It’s not that I’m surprised that you’re well educated, it just always seemed like you’re not into fine literature.” 

I tried my best not to be offended, and managed to mostly succeed. I know what I look like, a bad conman, a child with the hair of a grandmother, maybe even a functioning human? I looked like many things, but a confucian scholar is not one of them.

* * *

I laid in my futon that night and realised: _‘What the fuck. Portugal? Confucius? What the _fuck_ , world, and you were just starting to make sense.’_

“AAAAAAAUUGGHH!” I yelled into the empty air, and gripped my hair in frustration.

“SHUT UP! I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” Kaa-san yelled back from her bedroom. 

I wisely closed my mouth. From a far away place inside my own head, I realised I would be spending my day off in the archives.

 _‘Nooooooooooo, you’re supposed to be a jock!’_ My last brain cell screamed before I fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Adding “~chi” or “~ichi” to an abbreviated name is a way of making a cutesy or diminutive nickname for someone. Generally not used unless you’re either really close or really rude. guess which one matsuki is lol. Back
> 
> 2\. Botched English translation of Oda Nobunaga. Oda was like… a lowkey megalomaniac Japanese historical figure and shogun from the Sengoku Period. Back
> 
> 3\. The Japanese name for one of the earliest appearing bodhisattva in mahayana buddhism. He’s one of the three guardian deities of Buddha. Protects Buddha and manifests all his powers. [Back](%E2%80%9D#hatback%E2%80%9D)
> 
> 4\. One of the most famous or popular bodhisattva (or at least the only one my devout, buddhist grandmother taught me). Represents mercy and the moon. Chinese. [Back](%E2%80%9D#mercyback%E2%80%9D)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow... I really did this, huh. This is my first fanfic, all my prior creative writing experience was in english-class lol. thank you so much for reading :,,,,)


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